To me it is only the spirit of God in a thing that can make
it holy or sacred. Surely there is as much of God manifest in a field of
grain as in any of these churches; why, then, is not a corn field a holy
institution and why not the farmer who tends the field, a minister of
God?"
"You would condemn then everyone in the church?" he asked bitterly. "I
cannot think that--I know--" he paused.
"Condemn?" she answered questioningly, "I condemn?" Those deep gray eyes
were turned full upon him, and he saw her face grow tender and sad, while
the sweet voice trembled with emotion. "Who spoke of condemnation? Is
that just the question? Are you not unfair? In my--" she spoke the words
solemnly, "my ministry, I have stood at the bedside of too many heroes
and heroines not to know that the church is filled with the truest and
bravest. And that--Oh! don't you see--that is the awful pity of it all.
That those true, brave, noble lives should be the--the cloud that hides
the sun? As for the ministry, one in my profession could scarcely help
knowing the grand lives that are hidden in this useless class set apart
by the church to push its interests. The ministers are useless only
because they are not free. They cannot help themselves. They are slaves,
not servants. Their first duty is, not service to the soul-sick world
that so much needs their ministry, but obedience to the whims of this
hideous monster that they have created and now must obey or--" she
paused.
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